


Fugitives

by vandevere



Category: Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandevere/pseuds/vandevere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jor El made a costly mistake.  Now he, and General Zod, must pay the price...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fugitives, Chapter 1

FUGITIVES

_Planet, Krypton_

_It’s all my fault_ , Jor El thought grimly as he tried to staunch the blood flowing from his friend’s body. General Zod was, as befitted a member of the Warrior Caste, one of the strongest, hardest men on Krypton. But he had just taken two kryptonite bullets to the chest…

Blood was spreading out across the chest of the black leather armor Zod habitually wore, more blood trickling from his nose and mouth. Without medical care, Zod’s life could be measured in minutes, and, as matters stood now, it was highly unlikely he would get that care.

_Jax Ur_

Jax was a competent enough scientist, Jor El supposed. But Jor El had never realized how much of a snake the man was.

Until it was too late…

_He betrayed me. He betrayed Zod_ …

Even worse was the realization that Jax had played him; had played Jor El as easily as a musician plays a flute

He set the trap, and I followed the bait; followed it to the inevitable conclusion, and Zod…

Zod was dying because of it.

Only now, holding his dying friend in his arms, listening to his labored breaths, surrounded by Peacekeepers, could Jor El see the finesse, the sheer artistry with which Jax Ur had set the trap…

* * *

Three days earlier…

“Zod, listen to me,” Jor El spoke urgently. “This is not the time for a coup.”

“Not the time?” Zod’s expression was one of disbelief. “The Council has decided to do nothing about the collapsing core, and you say this isn’t the time to take things over?”

“We don’t have the time or the assets to do both,” Jor El spoke patiently. “The Council may be venal, but wouldn’t you say saving thousands of lives bears precedence over toppling the government?”

Zod grunted at that, a noncommittal sound. But he was listening at least, arms folded across his chest.

“I’ve made a beginning on the problem,” Jor El continued. “I had to…bend…a few rules in the process; but it’s a start.”

Zod quirked an eyebrow at that.

“A…start,” he repeated. “Jor, what have you done?”

“Lara and I have had a boy child,” Jor El smiled. “Krypton’s first natural birth in hundreds of years.”

It wasn’t often one got to see an utterly stunned Zod. But there he was, eyes gone wide in shock, and horror too; and Jor El knew the word, heresy, was foremost in Zod’s mind right now.

Zod was the best of the Warrior Caste, as Jor El was of his Caste; and Jor El loved the man like a brother.

For all their dedication and strength, though, those of the Warrior Caste were also notorious for their rigidity of thought.

But Zod, although stunned by the news, wasn’t rushing out the door to decry Jor El’s…treason.

Instead, he was…thinking things over.

“Why would you do that?” the General finally asked.

_Maybe not so rigid after all_ …

“Because we lost something essential when we turned to genetic design and rigid population control. We lost our drive; we became complacent, when we should have been reaching out to the stars.”

“But…”Zod was clearly doing his best to try to understand.

“Yes, I know, Zod…Heresy. But there were pressing reasons; Krypton’s core the foremost one. Unlike the Council, I will not sit idly by. I will do something to save as much of our people as we can.”

Zod nodded at that, feeling more on solid ground now. Only one thing seemed to bother him.

“Where is your son, Jor?”

“I sent him away to another planet.”

* * *

General Zod stared at his best friend, the man who had just admitted to breaking Sacred Law by creating a natural child, and it just boggled his mind.

“You go to all this trouble to break the Sacred Law, and once he’s born, you send him away?”

“With a copy of the Codex.”

“A copy of the…”

Zod had to sit down.

_You think you know a man, what he’s capable of_ …

“Let’s see…” Zod took a deep breath, then counted facts on his fingers. “You’ve created an unauthorized life, made an unauthorized copy of the Codex, and sent both off who knows where?”

“That sounds about right,” Jor El was smiling brightly.

“Oh…gods…” Zod rubbed his temples. “Have you lost your mind Jor?”

“It had to be done Zod,” Jor El was unapologetic. “They’re the last line of defense should things go wrong here.”

“Things…What things?”

“Well…obviously we have to save as many of our people as we can.”

On that score Zod was in complete agreement. The people of Krypton were his sole reason for existence. Their safety was his very life and breath.

But, if Krypton’s core was collapsing…

“How many do you think we can save?”

“Our best bet would be the children at the Academy. How many long-range colony-size ships do you think you could scrounge up?”

“With or without the Council’s knowledge?” Even Zod could hear the snarky tone in his own voice.

_I’m not a worker of miracles Jor…_

“Without, of course,” Jor El spoke crisply. “What they don’t know won’t hurt us.”

“Unless, of course, it does,” Zod stood, realizing he had chosen sides; had chosen Jor El even over his own plans to topple the Council.

But Krypton’s core was collapsing. Left unchecked, everyone, high and low, venal and good…

Everyone would die.

They wouldn’t be able to save everyone. But the children at the Academy…

_Yes…We can save them, get some long range ships. If we’re lucky, we might find a habitable planet and start over. Maybe even undo some of the mistakes we made here_ …

“Give me a few days, Jor,” he finally said. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

He sighed.

“You know what will happen if the Council finds out?” he asked. “The Phantom Zone might very well be the least of our worries.”

“I know,” Jor El admitted. “If you feel you can’t be involved in this for whatever reason, I’ll understand.”

“I’m in, Jor,” Zod assured him. “But we’ll need to be…discreet.”

He paused again, mentally listing allies and assets.

“I’ll let you know in a couple of days, all right?”

“Yes,” Jor El nodded. “Call me when you have something.”

* * *

Which was how General Zod found himself at the Museum of Space Travel, a disappointed Jor El in tow.

“What did you expect, Jor?” Zod spoke patiently. “We haven’t even left our Solar System in thousands of years. The only ships capable of transporting thousands of passengers across vast interstellar distances are all here.”

“Museum pieces,” Jor El spoke in disgust, and Zod was briefly tempted to smack him upside the head, the way he had when they were kids at the Academy.

“I’ve found two that can be retrofitted,” he said. “So I made a proposal to the Academy Head, and he’s willing to purchase both.”

“What for?”

“Educational purposes, Jor. The Engineer caste will do the retrofitting, and once that’s done, the ships will be available for field trips into the Solar System.”

“Field trips?”

Zod hissed in exasperation.

“You know, Jor, for a man of your level of genius, you can be really, really, dumb. Do I need to spell it out? Field…Trips…”

“Field trips…” Jor El repeated the words slowly. Then his eyes widened, and he smiled wide.

“Zod, you’re a genius…”

“Says the greatest loon of our generation…”

But Zod was smiling too. He had solved the delicate issue of how to get the Academy Children aboard long-range Jump Ships without alerting the Council…

“That was when Zod sensed something…off…about the throngs of people at the museum; something that set his trained Warrior senses into high alert.

It was a man, off to the right of the vast hall, armed, and taking aim…

At Jor El…

Conscious thought didn’t enter into the equation. On instinct, Zod spun, one hand shoving Jor El out of the way, other hand reaching for his stun-gun…

The bullets struck first.

Zod felt it as a colossally overpowering kick to the chest, and now he was on his back, horrific agony paralyzing his limbs.

There were shouts, cries, and screams of fear…

But Zod’s hearing was gone, all his strength, and the mere act of breathing was purest agony.

A shadow over him, gentle hands pressing against his chest.

_Jor El_ …he thought dazedly. He forced himself to find the breath to speak.

“Get out of here,” gods, this hurt…”Find Lara and go…”

“I’m not going to leave you behind,” Zod felt Jor El left him up, hold him close. If not for the agony sizzling through his body, he might have laughed.

“You’re an idiot…” he whispered. He had no strength left for anything else, and the beckoning darkness lay just ahead.

Abruptly, he remembered the First Mantra of the Warrior’s Creed.

_A good death is its own reward_ …

* * *

Jor El held his friend tightly, and he could not help but hear the ragged breathing, the wet sound behind it.

_Punctured lung_ …

But the Peacekeepers were here, a whole troop of them.

“Men!” Jor El put every ounce of command he could find into his voice. “General Zod has been injured. Call Medical at once.”

They didn’t. Instead, they aimed all their weapons right at him.

“Gentlemen?” he looked up at them. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning of this is that you and General Zod are facing banishment to the Phantom Zone. Perhaps death would be a mercy, yes?”

Jax Ur’s voice jarred Jor El right down to his toes.

“Zod’s no criminal, Jax,” Jor El continued to hold Zod, unable to ignore the man’s ragged breaths.

“Really?” Jax sauntered up. “He didn’t aid and abet you in your attempt to make an illegal child, or an illegal copy of the Codex? He didn’t try to involve the Academy in an attempt to kidnap our children in the mistaken belief that Krypton’s core is collapsing?”

“Krypton’s core is collapsing. That’s not belief, Jax. That’s fact. Scanners don’t lie.”

“Unless they’ve been programmed to lie,” Jax smiled sweetly and Jor El felt his world shatter.

“Yes, I hacked your scanners,” Jax continued. “And I had your living quarters bugged. I know everything you’ve said and done this last year.”

Jor El felt enveloped in a cone of shock.

“Why?” he asked.

“I merely followed the Council’s orders,” Jax looked down at him. “They wanted both you and Zod…neutralized. Loose cannons, both of you, and Zod with a loyal army at his back. That couldn’t be allowed to continue. Fortunately, I was able to join his group of disaffected warriors, and get the evidence of his treason on holo before you managed to talk him out of it. You were a touch more difficult. But that idealism of yours proved your undoing. Out of your desire to save Krypton, I was able to fabricate treason, and now, here you both are, facing banishment to the Phantom Zone. So, maybe it would be more merciful to let the great General Zod die.”

Jor El looked down at Zod, his best and truest friend…dying in his arms.

_I’m sorry Zod. I led you into this_ …

Pure rage consumed him, white-hot fury blazing in his brain.

“You’ll pay for this, Jax Ur. I swear by the Blood of my House. You will pay.”

_Time for Contingency Plan a_ …

Reputation notwithstanding, Jor El had never been the blindly trusting lamb that most people-including Zod-believed him to be. His House servant, Keelix, hovered nearby, unmarked, unnoticed…

He slowly closed his eyes.

All hell broke loose…

Most of the Peacekeepers were down, the rest, and Jax too, diving for cover.

Jor El wanted to kill Jax, twist the man’s scrawny neck until it snapped. But he couldn’t.

He had a life to save…

He moved quickly, hauling Zod up and over his shoulder.

“Keelix!” he ordered. “Comm Lara. It’s all gone to hell. Zod’s injured.”

Then he was off, looking for a safe place. Zod’s body was a dead weight, arms and legs dangling limply.

“Jor!” Lara Commed back. “I’m with Faora UL. We’re in her ship. Where are you?”

“The Museum of Space Travel. Hurry. Zod’s life depends on speed.”

“We’ll meet you at the Angelus Gate.”

_Just a few minutes away_ …

Jor El moved as quickly as he dared, not wanting to jar his friend too much. But the crowds of panicked citizens were both a blessing, and a curse. They made it difficult for the Peacekeepers to draw a bead on him. But they also made it difficult for him to move.

Still, in spite of the crowds, and in spite of the burden laid across his shoulders, he made good speed.

There was no mistaking Faora Ul’s ship, and armed four-seater scout.

“Hold him Lara. Get him strapped in,” Jor El managed to haul Zod’s body inside.

“What happened?” Lara worked quickly, strapping the unconscious General into the flight seat.

“Jax happened,” Jor El explained. “He, and the Council, have betrayed us. Zod and I are traitors now.”

He turned to Faora, sitting wide-eyed at the controls.

“Can you get us to a ship? One with a Phantom Drive and medical facilities?”

“The General’s own ship is near,” Faora’s hands tightened on the controls. “It has a Phantom drive, but there’s only a Life Pod in the First Aid station.”

Jor El looked at the rear seats. Lara was doing what she could, applying direct pressure to the wounds, and Zod…

The man’s body lay inert in the seat, head lolling…

_Only a Life Pod_ …

It would have to do…

General Zod’s personal ship, the Winged Victory was a light battle-cruiser. She normally carried a crew of twelve. But a crew of four, or _three_ , could handle her.

“I’ll pilot,” Faora was already running up the gangway, waking the ship up.

“Where’s the Life Pod?” Jor El hobbled in, burdened again by his friend’s weight.

“First room on the right,” Faora’s voice floated down to him from the Bridge area.

Jor El gently lay his friend into the pod. Looking around, he saw a spare General’s Command Cape draped casually across a chair. He snatched it up and gently settled it over Zod’s body. Warmth was all he had to offer now.

Zod stirred slightly, eyes flicking open.

“Where…” his voice was a cracked whisper.

“Shh Zod, don’t talk,” Jor El spoke quickly. “Faora’s with us, we’re on your ship, and we’re leaving.”

“Leaving..?”

“Leaving Krypton, Zod. We can’t save the children, and-as it turns out-we don’t need to save the children. So, we save ourselves.”

“Told you we’d end up in it up to our eyeballs…”

In spite of that faint whisper, in spite of Zod’s ragged breathing, in spite of all the blood, Jor El had to smile, tears blurring his vision as he laid a hand on Zod’s.

“Yes, you did,” he agreed. “Now, you need to sleep for a bit. I’ll awaken you when it’s safe…”

It only took a few minutes to prepare the Life Pod’s machine interface; the Cardio Unit to keep Zod’s heart beating, the ventilator to keep him breathing, and drugs to deaden the pain.

Then, that duty done, he closed the Life Pod. Now, Zod was as safe as Jor El could make him.

_Provided we can escape Krypton_ …

Winged Victory was speeding upward, in search of freedom. The floor jerked under Jor El’s feet as he made his way to the Bridge…

_They’re firing at us_ …

“How are we?”

“We took a few hits,” Faora kept her eyes on the controls. The Phantom Drive may have been damaged.”

“Time for a leap of faith then,” Jor El murmured.

“Sir?”

“Hit it!”

So, Faora did…

The world exploded around Jor El, and even though he had never personally gone into hyperspace before, he knew…

_This isn’t the way it’s supposed to go_ …

* * *

Reality became real again; but slowly, in dribs and drabs.

Lying on his back, the back of his head aching dully. Slowly, he pulled himself up to a sitting position. The controls were sparking, and Faora was kneeling by his side.

“We failed?”

“No,” Faora shook her head. “We made the Jump, but it wasn’t instantaneous.”

“Lost time?”

“Roughly thirty years,” Faora nodded.

“Zod?”

“The Life Pod’s still working,” Lara walked in. “But we are not alone. Look at the view screen.”

They looked like men, wearing helmets, carrying guns, accompanied by armored vehicles. Faora cursed and reached for her body armor.

“No,” Jor El stopped her. “We’re here as humble refugees, dependent on their goodwill.”

Faora nodded uncertainly at that.

“Where are we?” Jor El asked her.

“Didn’t Lara tell you?”

“There wasn’t any time,” Lara spoke up. “It’s Earth.”

Jor El’s breath caught.

“Earth...?” he said. “Where we...”

“Yes.”

Jor El looked at the view-screen.

“I’ll go out to them,” he decided.

“Be careful, Sir,” Faora said. “We don’t know how well they might take to uninvited strangers crashing on their world.”

“I know,” Still wearing his Ministry of science robes, stained as they were with Zod’s blood, he grabbed a helmet, put it on.

“Right now these people are Zod’s only hope,” he said. “We come as fugitives, as refugees seeking asylum. We must be humble.”

* * *

Colonel Nathan Hardy wasn’t in the best of moods right now.

_All those X-philes never knew how right they were_ , he thought sourly.

Only last year had Earth learned a genuine ET had been living here, somewhere in Kansas, for thirty-odd years.

It had been a catastrophic, extinction-level meteoric bombardment that had brought Superman, AKA Kal El, out of hiding.

NASA, and the other space agencies had done what they could, but that had gone only so far.

Superman had been seen literally _everywhere_ , catching meteors bigger than football fields, and punching right through them; or doing that eye-laser thing. Either way meant a pulverized meteor.  
That wasn’t to say there hadn’t been any damage. Even Superman couldn’t do it all.

But the damage to Earth, while of a fairly high order, wasn’t the Planetary Life Extinction Event that Dr. Emil Hamilton had feared it would be…

Hardy had even met Superman once, and he had to admit, Kal was a real standup guy…

_Doesn’t mean we need or want more ETs_ …

Dr. Emil Hamilton was standing right next to him, worry in his eyes.

“Maybe we could knock on their door, see if they need assistance?”

Privately, Hardy agreed.

_Anything crashes that hard, there’s gonna be casualties_ …

The ship, slightly larger than a NASA Shuttle, had literally appeared out of nowhere, just before entering Earth’s atmosphere. Then, it had taken a nosedive, crashing-ironically enough-just a few short miles from Roswell…

Hardy chewed his lip. There had to be injuries. But his orders, from General Swanwick, had been clear.

_Do not approach unless they invite you_ …

“What if they’re injured, and can’t invite us?” Hamilton looked at the ship, lying almost belly-up on the ground.

“Nate, “he continued. “They could be dying in there.”

Hardy sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay,” he muttered. After all, it was in his purview…

He steeled himself, began to walk up to what looked like an entry-hatch. The hatch suddenly popped outward, and Hardy heard the snap! Of gun safeties clicking off.

It was a male, looked completely human, wearing what looked like bloodstained priestly robes, and a transparent helmet that left his face visible to the gaze. Going by human standards, Hardy would’ve placed the man in his late forties, what with the longish graying hair and beard.

The eyes were a vibrant blue, and kind. He was moving forward slowly, hands held out in peace, or supplication, speaking a language Hardy didn’t understand, but the voice was, like the eyes, a kind voice.

Still, Hardy had no clue what the man was saying, so it was down to hand gestures and smiles, all to say just one thing.

_We come in peace_ …

“Emil,” Hardy spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “See if Superman’s somewhere nearby. Maybe he can help with this.”

“Already did,” Hamilton was putting his Cel away. “That S symbol is on his robes too.”

“Yeah…” Hardy had noticed that, and the bloodstains. Walking slowly, he approached the alien. Reaching out slowly, his hand touched one of the bloodstains, his head tilting in an unspoken question.

* * *

Relief coursed through Jor El’s limbs. It was as clear as if the human had spoken it aloud.

_Do you have any wounded?_

Jor El nodded. He held up an index finger, then thumped his chest twice, hoping the Human’s would get the message.

_One injury, two wounds to the chest_.

A flash of blue caught his eye. Jor El turned to it, felt his world wobble yet again…

The stranger, wearing the blue cape of the Hope Bringer had Lara’s eyes.

Abruptly, Jor El found himself on his knees, and the stranger knelt with him.

“Father?” the younger man asked. “Is that really you?”

“Yes,” Now wild hope flared in his chest. “You found the survey ship. Good. I have a friend, badly hurt-“

“Hold on,” Kal said. “The ship can fly, but that’s about it. The ship’s sickbay is completely inoperable.”

One of the humans spoke, the one who had touched his robes; and Kal said something over his shoulder.

He turned back to Jor El.

“They want to help,” he said. “There’s a base just a few minutes away with medical facilities. What kind of atmospheric and gravity requirements do you have?”

As it turned out, the differences weren’t as major as Jor El was afraid they might be. Krypton’s air was roughly similar to Earth’s. It was the pressure and gravity that was the real problem…

Earth’s air pressure and gravity were much lighter than Krypton’s; and it was the human scientist who found the answer…

* * *

Dr. Emil Hamilton arrived at Roswell in advance of the rest of the party.

_At least they have a hyperbaric chamber_ …

Yes, they had that, but-much to his alarm-no medical personnel. The government had been in the process of closing down everyone’s favorite conspiracy theory at the time.

_No doctors…no surgeons…just us_ …

He cracked his knuckles and adjusted his eye-glasses.

_No alien autopsy this time_ , he vowed.

He could hear the sirens.

_They’re coming. We’ll have to move fast_ …

The patient had apparently been shot with Kryptonite bullets, and from the little he had been able to suss about those, it appeared Kryptonite was poisonous to Kryptonians.

Something about that bothered Hamilton.

_No time to dwell on that now_ …

They were bringing the Life Pod in now. He and Jor El, still wearing those robes, worked quickly, transferring Zod from the Life Pod to the hyperbaric chamber, cutting the black leathers off; all of the routine things one does in Triage…

“Your internal organs,” Hamilton didn’t look up from his work as he spoke. “Are they situated like ours are?”

_Thank the Lord Kal remembered to hook us up with a Universal Translator..._

“Exactly the same in every respect,” Jor El assured him. Again, it bothered him.

Evolution may be parallel, but it’s not that parallel…

_No time_ …

The patient was intubated, electrodes attached to his ribcage and his skull. It was a rather awkward surgery, having to operate with delicate servos so as not to break environmental containment, and surgery wasn’t really Hamilton’s strong suit, but he managed to get both bullets out.

That was when things went wrong…

The readouts beeped their alarm, vitals were flattening, pulse and blood pressure bottoming out…

“Oh, no you don’t…” Hamilton growled. “He’s crashing!”

He started chest compressions as the ventilator continued to force air into the patient’s lungs.

He picked up the shock pad servo…

“Clear!”

Nothing...

Again…

“Clear!”

Nothing, and Hamilton heard an almost-sob from Jor El…

One last time…

“Clear!”

“He’s back,” an aide said.

Vitals were stabilizing, pulse steadying, and blood pressure rising…

_Although we have no idea what a healthy blood pressure is for these people_ …

Trembling, he put the shock pad servo down, pulled his hands free…

_I saved an extraterrestrial’s life today_ …

"Well…damn…” he muttered

* * *

Jor El stood in front of the hyperbaric chamber, keeping watch over his friend. The General’s bare torso was covered in gauze, surgical tape, and bandaging. Tubes down his throat, other tubes up his nose, eyelids taped shut, Zod didn’t look like a powerful Warrior from a prestigious bloodline.

He looked like a man on the verge of death…

“Can he hear me?” he turned to Dr. Hamilton.

“People in comas do here what’s going on,” Hamilton assured him. “By all means, talk to him. It may even help him.”

“Thank you,” Jor El offered his hand. “Zod is my friend, my best and truest friend, and he took those wounds saving my life.”

Hamilton took his hand, gave it a firm shake.

“Superman-Kal-called a few minutes ago. He’s bringing his ship closer to here, so you’ll have a place to stay. So…get some rest Jor El. You look ready to fall flat on your face.”

“Zod…” Jor El looked at his friend.

“Zod’s in God’s hands now. We’ve done all that we can.”

Yes…

Jor El laid a hand on the glass-like material.

_Live, Zod. Do not die_ …


	2. Fugitives, chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, they're here on Earth, and must make adjustments

Fugitives  
Chapter 2

  
Dr. Emil Hamilton stepped outside of Roswell Air Force Military Base, doctors’ medical bag in one hand, a Kryptonian helmet-on loan from Kal’s survey ship-in the other.

Kal’s survey ship was parked just a five minute walk away, looming over everything.

Dr. Hamilton had a patient to visit.

Kal was out, doing whatever it was Superman did; or maybe he was working at his  _Human_ job. His girlfriend was apparently the reporter Lois Lane, but Hamilton hadn’t met her yet.

Anyway, Kal wasn’t at his ship; but Jor El was; waiting just outside the door, helmetless. The man had been working hard to acclimatize himself to Earth…

“How’s our patient?” he asked the Kryptonian.

“He hasn’t awakened yet, Dr. Hamilton,” Jor El held the Human’s medical bag while Hamilton put the helmet on. Then, they entered the ship.

By composition, Kryptonian air wasn’t really all that different from Terran air. It was in the area of air pressure and gravity that the major differences lay. A Human breathing Kryptonian air would find himself weighing around fifty more pounds than he was used to, and the air would be like a smothering blanket…

The helmet Hamilton now wore had been adjusted to meet a Terran’s needs.

General Zod lay in a room just off to the right; and it had been seven days since Hamilton had had to dig two Kryptonite bullets out of the Kryptonian’s chest.

_At least he’s breathing on his own now..._

The mechanical ventilator was gone; replaced by nasal cannulas, sending the proper dose of Kryptonian-approved air into his lungs.

The room Zod lay in was large…

It had to be. General Swanwick had approved the transfer of several different medical scanners, and they were all crammed into this one room.

Zod seemed to be asleep. Blankets had been drawn up to his shoulders; an IV stand stood at the right side of the bed, IV tube snaking down to connect at his right arm.

It had been hard finding a needle strong enough to pierce Kryptonian flesh. In the end, Jor El had to craft one out of adamantium.

_Well…We’re learning._

Hamilton went through the basics; pulse and respiration, noting that Zod’s pupils were finally responsive to light.

 _A very good sign_ …

“Has he shown any signs of wakefulness?”

“He’s been…restless…since yesterday,” Jor El looked down at his friend, and Hamilton could see that man had been losing sleep worrying over Zod.

“He even opened his eyes a little bit here and there,” Jor El continued.

“The coma’s lightening,” Hamilton explained. “Give Zod time. He’ll come up when he’s ready. However…”

He paused before continuing.

“We need to discuss potential long-term health issues...” he finally said.

Zod had been shot with Kryptonite bullets-poisonous to Kryptonians-and those bullets had been lodged in his chest for a certain amount of time.

Either it was a few days, or it was thirty-plus years. The Kryptonians weren’t really sure which, and, at this point, it almost didn’t matter anyway.

One bullet had punctured a lung, and the other had come dangerously near the heart. Fortunately, the heart seemed to have taken no damage; but Zod’s right lung had been brutally scarred by the Kryptonite.

He handed the papers he was holding-the results of medical scans, the chest x-ray, and the blood work results to Jor El.

* * *

Jor El looked them over, feeling his heart sink.

The scans showed irreparable damage to Zod’s right lung, and blood work showed traces of Kryptonite in his blood too.

 _Only trace amounts_ , Jor El tried to console himself. But he knew…

 _Even trace amounts can have a significant impact_ …

“Will it kill him?”

Hamilton shrugged helplessly.

“I have no idea, Jor El. You guys are so similar to us, and yet…not.”

Jor El understood what he meant. His son, Kal, could fly. He could pulverize meteors with a single punch; and Jor El, too, had discovered he was far stronger here than he had ever been on Krypton. Even the women, Lara and Faora, had to learn to adapt to being stronger-frighteningly so-than they had ever been before…

“We’ll just have to wait until Zod wakes up,” Hamilton continued to speak. “We should be able to make an accurate determination then.”

Jor El nodded.

“Do you still want to draw our blood?” he asked.

“Yes, if you’ll permit it,” Hamilton looked up at him. “I need to read your DNA, compare it to Human DNA.”

“Why?”

“This Kryptonite thing is bugging me,” Hamilton admitted. “Lara tells me it’s ubiquitous on your world, and yet it’s poisonous to you. As common as she says it is on Krypton, all of you must have been breathing in its dust all your lives; and it just doesn’t make sense. If it’s  _that_ poisonous to you…well…either you should have died out as a species, or you should have adapted to it, developed an immunity to Kryptonite. But you people did neither.”

“And you think reading our DNA will help you arrive at an answer?”

“We’ve scanned Zod’s brain and body, Jor El. _Everything_ -internal organs, skeletal structure, and neurological system-is completely identical to the Human biological system in literally every way. Quite frankly, I don’t think you guys evolved on Krypton. Either we’re descended from you, you’re descended from us, or we’re both descended from some as-yet unknown third party.”

“What about the Theory of Parallel Evolution?”

“Have you ever seen an example of evolution being _this_ parallel?”

_Well…no._

Jor El walked over to Zod’s bed, looked down at him, peacefully asleep.

 _If we are as genetically alike as the good doctor believes we are, that may be a good thing in the end_ …

The Kryptonians certainly didn’t have anywhere else to go.

_We are exiles, here only on the sufferance of these people._

How fortunate it was, then, that they had come to Earth, the very same planet he had sent his son Kal to. To the people of Earth, Kal was a savior. They called him Superman, mistaking the Sign of Hope for an S.

But through Kal, the four exiles would be able to find safe harbor, a place to live.

He could only hope that the Council of Krypton, and Jax Ur, would be content with their victory.

 _They wanted Zod and me gone, and we are; never to trouble Krypton again_ …

Jor El sighed.

So many regrets…

If only he had had the wisdom to independently verify his results…

 _I may have noticed the discrepancies, I may have seen the signs we were being played. If only I had noticed_ …

Well, he hadn’t. So here they all were…

He laid a gentle hand on Zod’s shoulder.

 _I’m so sorry_ …

* * *

Zod’s nose itched…

All was dark, and the world seemed to murmur all around him. It was very calm here, very warm and peaceful…

But his nose itched.

His hand moved to scratch that itch, but another hand caught his, murmured something incomprehensible, then set his hand by his side. The murmuring continued, lulling him along, and if it hadn’t been for his itching nose, he might have followed that soft murmuring back down into the darkness.

But his nose itched, and Zod wanted it scratched.

Again, he moved to relieve that nagging itch. Again, a hand caught his…

“No, Zod, you can’t do that…”

Jor El’s voice pulled him up and away from the murmuring darkness, and he opened his eyes.

His friend's face loomed over him, worry and relief in his eyes.

Zod could feel something in his nose, in both nostrils, and they itched. But Jor El was keeping a firm hold on his hand.

What happened?

Zod’s memory was more than just a little foggy.

 _We were at the Museum of Space Travel, and I was telling Jor about the ships I had found_ …

Yes…

Now he remembered the man with the gun aimed at Jor El…

 _I pushed Jor out of the way, and_ …

Here his memory ended, except for tattered rags of memory that may have been dreams.

But the throbbing ache in his chest told him what happened…

“I was shot,” his voice came out a fractured-sounding croak.

“Yes,” Jor El nodded. “This man saved your life.”

He pointed to a short bearded man wearing what looked like spectacles. But all forms of physical disability, including visual disability, had been eradicated on Krypton millennia ago.

Yet, here this man was, wearing eye-glasses…

“Jor, where are we?”

Jor El sighed, and Zod didn’t like that sound at all.

“It exploded in our faces, didn’t it?”

Again, that sigh…

“Yes…” Jor El finally spoke. “And we shall speak of this when you are stronger.”

“But-“

“It’s all right, Zod. We’re safe, and you will recover; so don’t take those cannulas out of your nose.”

“They itch,” Zod complained.

“I know, Zod. But they also help your breathing. You almost died. In fact…”

Jor El paused.

“You  _did_ die,” he continued. “Your heart stopped beating, you stopped breathing. It was this doctor’s quick actions that brought you back to us. So, please indulge an old friend, and let yourself recover. I promise I will give you a full accounting; but only when Dr. Hamilton thinks you’re up to it.”

“But Krypton, our people…”

This, he had to know…

And all Jor El did was sigh again, and bow his head…

 _Gods no… No, please no_ …

He grabbed for Jor El’s hand, moved to sit up, hissing with the pain…

“No, Zod,” Jor El gently pressed him back into the mattress; and it was alarming how much stronger Jor El seemed to be.

 _Or how much weaker I have become_ …

“We mustn’t spoil the good doctor’s needlework,” Jor El was speaking. “Krypton is safe. Krypton’s core is safe. You needn’t worry on that score.”

There was such disgust in Jor El’s voice; such sadness and…anger.

“Jor…what happened?”

* * *

Jor El glanced back at Dr. Hamilton questioningly. He knew Zod, knew the man wouldn’t… _couldn’t_ rest until he had gotten some answers.

Hamilton nodded reluctantly.

“It’s on your head though if anything happens,” the Human finally said.

Jor El nodded, looked down at Zod.

His friend looked truly _awful_ , pale, wan, exhausted, and his dark blue eyes were shadowed with pain and weariness.

 _But he will not rest until he knows_ …

“We were lied to, Zod,” He began. “We were betrayed; by Jax Ur, by the Council of Krypton itself.”

Zod looked around, assessing the situation.

“Are we prisoners, Jor?”

“No. It’s not what you think. We are far away from Krypton. Two others are with us, my wife, Lara, and also Faora Ul. She was instrumental in getting us away from Krypton. I should, however, tell you that your ship, the Winged Victory, is only worth scrap metal now.”

Zod’s eyes widened.

“Why would Faora risk everything to rescue us? She had the entire beginning of her career as a Warrior to look forward to.”

“Because, unlike the council, she still believes in loyalty and honor,” Jor El spoke grimly. “But that is truly all you need to know now. Krypton is safe, but we shall never see it again. The Council wanted us dead, or exiled to the Phantom Zone, and Jax Ur was only too glad to help put us there.”

“I should’ve seen it,” Zod muttered. “There always seemed to be something…oily…about Jax. He wanted so very much to help me bring the Council down; and he seemed so disappointed when you got me to change my mind.”

“If it’s any consolation, Zod, I actually regret getting you to change your mind. The Council has changed, become venal and corrupt. I no longer believe they have the best interests of Krypton in their hearts.”

“Too late for that now, Jor. They’re there, and we’re here…wherever here is…”

Zod was beginning to tire…

“I’ve told you the situation as it is, Zod,” Jor El pulled the blankets up over Zod’s shoulders. “And now you must rest.”

Zod didn’t argue, and that, more than anything else, told Jor El just how drained his friend was.

His eyes were closing, almost on their own, and he was asleep in minutes.

Jor El stood looking down at his friend, who had lost so much merely for believing in him.

“May we talk in the hall?” he turned his head to Dr. Hamilton.

“Certainly,” Hamilton followed him out into the hall.

All Jor El felt was guilt.

_Zod believed in me. He trusted me to do the right thing for our people, for Krypton; and now he’s paying for his trust in me, paying with his strength, his health _…__

“He’ll need to be on oxygen for the rest of his life?”

“Yes,” Hamilton nodded. “It does look that way.”

Again, Jor El looked down at the papers in his hand, the medical readouts.

 _Perhaps it would have been a mercy if Zod had died instead_ …

Well…he hadn’t died. Now it was time to look the truth square in the face.

“How bad will it be?”

“He’ll certainly be weaker than you Kryptonians,” Hamilton took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t tell you if he’ll be weaker or stronger than the average humans. However, if you’re having to craft adamantium needles is any indication, he’ll probably be just as bullet-proof as all the rest of you. You’ll just have to be patient. Time will tell…”

* * *

 _Two months later_ …

General Zod was feeling…irritated.

Jor El had finally told him everything.

 _We are exiles…refugees_ …

Zod felt torn. Krypton was safe. Krypton would go on much as it had these last several thousands of years.

But it would do so without Zod. He would never see his home again.

He was here, on a planet called Earth, with four other Kryptonians.

Kal had been the real surprise.

Jor El had brought the refugees to the same planet he had sent his son to; along with a copy of the Codex.

_Not that it matters anymore._

Krypton was far away…

Now, he was here, on Kal’s survey ship, located at Roswell Air Force Base, enduring one of Dr. Hamilton’s many tests.

 _This_ one seemed to have been designed by a sadist.

Walking on a treadmill, all sorts of medical…things…attached to his body; some sort of breather mask attached to his face.

He’d finally been told about the Kryptonite bullets, and the prognosis was more than a little frightening.

Even as a child at the Academy, Zod had been quicker and stronger than the other children; and everyone knew he was meant for great things.

The youngest General in recorded history…

 _Look at me now_ …

It was pathetic, how easily he got winded now, how weak he had become.

“All right, Zod,” Hamilton spoke. “You can stop now.”

 _I’ll be like this for the rest of my life_ , Zod stepped off the treadmill, stripping off all the gear he had been saddled with.

 _Useless…a cripple_ …

“Put your oxygen on,” Hamilton didn’t even look up from the readouts.

Snorting in disgust, Zod bent to pick up the backpack containing the oxygen tank, slid the backpack onto his shoulders, sticking those damned itchy cannulas into his nose.

“Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Hamilton was still going over the test results. “Get some water and sit for a bit.”

Zod picked up the bottled water, stared at it. Earth had been such a revelation…

A younger world with a younger sun, everything tasted, smelled, and felt better here. Even the water tasted wonderful, unlike the many-times-recycled stuff that passed for water on Krypton.

“Hey there…” Colonel Nathan Hardy entered the room, followed by Jor El, both smiling. “Nice to see you up and about.”

“Thank you,” Zod liked Hardy; a bluff Military Man much like Zod had been before all of this…

“It’s good that the Babelfish is working, eh?”

Zod blinked.

_Babelfish?_

Hamilton snorted in disgust.

“The Universal Translator,” Jor El explained. “For some odd reason Colonel Hardy calls it a Babelfish.”

“Blame it on Douglas Adams,” Hamilton groused. “God knows I certainly do.”

 _Some sort of Human cultural thing_ …

“Is there any chance I’ll be able to step outside and actually see this world?”

“Maybe,” Jor El said. “But it can be overwhelming, an assault on the senses. The gravity is lighter, and the air is thinner, so you could have trouble there too.”

“I’ll wear a helmet.”

“You can’t wear both the helmet and the oxygen cannulas,” Jor El explained patiently. “They don’t mix well at all…”

“So I’ll wear the helmet instead, Jor,” Zod folded his arms across his chest. “It’s not like-“

“We’re on Earth, Zod,” There was sadness in Jor El’s eyes. “Earth is your home now; Earth is the planet you must adapt to, and the helmet won’t help you in that. Just be careful. The experience can be…assaultive to the senses.”

“I’m a trained Warrior, Jor. I’ve studied the Disciplines of Sul Van.”

“Just be prepared, Zod. The experience can be overpowering.”

“That mean Dr. Hamilton will let me go outside today?”

“Yeah,” Hamilton nodded. “But if you keel over and fall flat on your face, I will be the first to say, _I told you so_.”

“I thank you for your faith in me,” Zod spoke dryly. “Now, where is the door to outside?”

Jor El kept close to Zod’s side as they walk to the door, already open, letting in brilliant sunlight.

“Remember, Zod,” Jor El warned him. “Your first exposure will be extremely disorienting.”

Zod nodded. Bracing himself, he stepped through, into the warm sunlight.

The world exploded around him, sight, sound, and color blending into a whirling mélange that almost drove him to his knees, and he felt Jor El take hold of his arm.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

Zod forced himself to straighten, holding up his right hand, focusing all of his attention on his fingers as he remembered the Dictum of Sul Van.

 _See that which you must see, and only that. All else is irrelevance_ …

The whirling maelstrom steadied, became a world, became a soft breeze caressing his skin, became birdsong, and warm solar rays that warmed Zod, down to the depths of his very soul.

* * *

Jor El stood next to Zod, keeping a careful eye on him, ready to catch him should he fall. But he was adapting to this world.

 _Good_ …

This was their world now, the place they would call home for the rest of their lives; and Zod, so much frailer in health now, would find this an easier planet to live on…

But he would have to wear the oxygen cannulas he detested so much for the rest of his life.

Again, the guilt assailed Jor El.

 _If only I had noticed the signs_ …

Too late for recriminations. Jor El’s duty now lay in protecting his fellow exiles, in providing comfortable shelter for them, and he had made a good beginning on that…

The oxygen backpack Zod was wearing now was one of Jor El’s inventions. It weighed around two pounds, made its own oxygen, and could go well over twenty-four hours without recharging. The US Government has allowed him to patent it, and soon it would be making the lives of people easier all over the world.

Other inventions would follow, true fusion, and solar energy collectors of a quality the people of Earth had never seen before.

As for the Phantom Drive…

The Humans had the wreckage of Zod’s ship, and Jor El had no doubt they would be able to work out the principles of the Phantom Drive.

 _Sooner rather than later_ …

Dr. Hamilton came up, also keeping an eye on Zod.

“Have the results from our DNA come in yet?” Jor El asked the scientist.

“Yes,” Hamilton nodded. “It’s official. Either you’re Human, or we’re Kryptonian. The differences between us are simply the result of environmental adaptations. So, in spite of what Kal, and you guys, can do, we’re really all the same species.”

“So, we didn’t evolve on Krypton after all,” Jor El mused.

“No,” Hamilton looked up at him. “That’s probably why Kal is so strong. He’s never been exposed to Kryptonite; whereas the rest of you were breathing in that stuff all your lives. All of you have traces of it in your blood too.”

“Crippling ourselves…” Jor El muttered.

“The good news, Jor El is that you’re not breathing in that Kryptonite anymore. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re feeling much better than you’ve probably felt in your entire life.”

That was true, Jor El realized. He did feel better…healthier…than he ever had before.

“Zod?”

“His case is…problematic,” Hamilton admitted. “Speaking of which…”

He stepped up to his patient. Through all of this, Zod had stood there, in the sun, eyes closed, just basking in the warmth of this beautiful golden sun.

“It’s time to come inside, Zod,” Hamilton said. “You’re not totally recovered yet.”

Zod opened his eyes, sighing in regret, and Jor El laughed.

“The weather forecast promises several more days like this one, my friend. So, assuming all goes well today, you should be able to go outside tomorrow as well.”

That was, after all, the whole point of this exercise…

 _To be able to go out among these people. To live among them, with them, as them_ …


	3. Fugitives, Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kryptonians get settled in. But there's no rest for the weary just yet...

Fugitives Chapter 3

_One year later..._

A year had passed since four Kryptonian refugees had crash-landed on Earth. Now, due to the good graces of the US government, they were settled in a comfortable apartment in downtown Metropolis; and Jor El had to admit the location was ideal…

The Grande Bourse, with its boutiques, coffee-houses, and the beautiful park, where all the chess players congregated, was just a short walk away. For Zod, especially, the Grande Bourse was a heaven-send.

He had been told to build up his lung capacity as much as was possible, and daily walks were an integral part of that.

It had become a daily routine for Zod; out of the apartment by nine AM, walking all around the Grande Bourse, winding it up at the Koffee Klatch, then spending an hour or two, or maybe more, with the chess-players at the Park.

Jor El, too, had settled into his new life, and it had turned out to be hauntingly similar to his old life.

Just a few months ago, he had been made scientific Advisor to the President of the United States of America. The Terran drive to advance almost made Jor El giddy with excitement. The Humans had already worked out the principles of the Phantom Drive, and were now hard at work designing engines capable of using the Phantom Drive.

Soon, they would be ready to stake their claim on the universe.

But…

Krypton was out there…

Maybe the Council of Krypton had forgiven and forgotten. After all, it wasn’t as if Jor El had really committed any crime; and he had talked Zod out of trying for a coup, so Zod hadn’t really done anything wrong either.

_We are all very unlikely to cross paths.  Unless the Humans come to their attention..._

If the Council ever discovered the Humans had the Phantom drive, they would know full well whom to blame; and-if it came down to actual war, well…

Krypton’s guns were bigger than Earth’s…

Also, Earth wasn’t yet a unified polity. Oh, the U.N. was a rudimentary beginning; but the humans still had a way to go before they became a truly unified one-world government.

Jor El heard the apartment door open and close, Zod back from his daily outing.

Jor El still couldn’t look at him without feeling deep guilt.

Zod had lost weight over the year, becoming long and lanky; the power and strength he used to have gone in the wake of severe lung damage. Dr. Emil Hamilton had said he would probably never get back to what he had been before.

Compared to the other Kryptonians, he was downright frail.

Compared to Humans, though, it was…complicated.

It had been estimated that Zod was probably somewhat stronger than the average human, but likely not by much.

In any event, his world, his limits were bounded by his lung capacity. He could manage a short glide, but  _real_ flying, like what Kal, Jor El himself, Lara and Faora, could do, was beyond him. His lungs couldn’t handle the stress.

At least his x-ray vision was fine, and he could still do “That eye-laser thing” as Colonel Nathan Hardy so eloquently put it…

_I led him into this..._

Zod never talked about his feelings on being so badly disabled. But he wasn’t much of a talker anyway, so Jor El couldn’t be sure how Zod felt.

It  _seemed_ like he had made his peace with it…

Now, wearing Human clothes, jeans and a tee under a light denim jacket; the ever-present cannulas in his nose, the casual observer would never have believed Zod had been born on another world.

“How are you feeling, Zod?”

“Fine,” Zod grunted as he took off his jacket, and hung it neatly. “How about you? They keeping you and Lara busy?”

Lara, with her specialty being in Life Sciences had found a plush position at Metropolis Central Hospital. Even Faora had a position of some importance.

_Liaison of Human/Krypton Affairs..._

“Yes,” Jor El nodded. “We’re all quite busy.”

Zod grunted again, and Jor El thought he heard a muttered,  _I wish I could be busy too..._

Zod’s main responsibility lay in reclaiming as much of his health and strength as he could. But the Warrior Caste was trained, from early childhood on, to despise idleness.

Jor El had spent a long time trying to figure something out for Zod; something meaningful. It didn’t need to have a large salary, or even any salary at all. Zod was indifferent to the concept of wealth. Like most of the Warrior caste, what mattered most to him was _doing_ ; doing something concrete for his people

_Well...the Humans are his people now..._

It had been Dr. Hamilton to the rescue…again…

“Emil may have found a job for you,” Jor El began. “It’s a volunteer job.”

“What and where?” Zod’s interest was certainly piqued.

“It’s at the VA center, a few blocks down”

“I’ve seen it,” Zod said. “What would I be doing?”

“You’d be working with the young men and women of the armed forces who have suffered traumatic war injuries. It’s a part time position, twelve hours, Monday’s, Wednesdays, and Fridays four hours each. You up to that?”

“Will I be able to start this Monday?”

That was the answer Jor El was hoping to hear.

_No one likes feeling useless..._

* * *

Zod’s life now took on a routine quality…

Up at seven AM, half hour of exercise before shower and breakfast. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons devoted to helping wounded war veterans any way he could; sometimes being on hand as a vet tried walking on a new artificial limb for the first time. Other times, it was just being an attentive ear…

The whole world knew Zod, and his friends were extraterrestrials; literally from another world. The vets knew something else about Zod. Nobody ever spoke of it, but they all knew Zod was one of _them_ , a brother from another world…

After work, Zod would walk down to the Bourse, to his favorite coffee place.

The Koffee Klatch regulars knew him now, considered him one of their own.

The baristas even knew how he liked his coffee.

_Plain, black and bitter..._

Coffee had been a source of amazement. Krypton did have a caffeine equivalent; but it was a wan and feeble thing in comparison to Earth coffee…

“Hey, Zod…”

The elderly man, speaking with an accent Zod was beginning to recognize as British, held a coffee in one hand, and a chess kit in the other.

“Have time for a session?”

“Yes, Andrew,” Zod gestured at the pretty barista ready to take his order. “I’ll be right over.”

* * *

Colonel Nathan Hardy parked the SUV close to the Koffee Klatch. A lot had changed since he and Dr. Hamilton had come to the rescue of four Kryptonians…

Both he and Hamilton had been detailed to look after the refugees. Another time, Hardy might have scoffed at the idea of being essentially a babysitter; but this…

This was a once-in-a-million-years opportunity. Living with extraterrestrials, eating Dinner with them, on a regular basis…

_We've even done pizza and a movie..._

Faora  _loathed_ anchovies, but liked mushrooms; and Zod wasn’t terribly fond of pepperoni, but liked anchovies very much…

Speaking of Zod, it was time to bring him home…

There he was, in the park, facing one of the chess-players.

Zod probably didn’t know this, but Andrew St. Claire was universally recognized by the chess-playing community as being one of the best in the game.

According to Jor El, Zod had taken to chess like a duck to water.

The two men were now hunched over the game board, heads almost touching.

Hardy didn’t consider himself any kind of chess expert-Emil Hamilton was far better at the game than he-but it looked like St. Claire was winning.

It also looked like it hadn’t been an easy victory at all.

Finally, Zod sighed regretfully, tipped his King over…

“I almost had you,” he reached across to shake hands.

“A few months more and you _will_ ,” St. Claire assured him. “I find it hard to believe that you’ve never played chess before. You’re a natural.”

Hardy delicately cleared his throat, and the two men looked up.

“Your ride is here, I see,” St. Claire stood, finishing his coffee. “See you tomorrow?”

“Certainly,” Zod slipped his jacket back on. “I’ll get you yet…

Dinner was usually six, the four Kryptonians and their Human caretakers. Sometimes it was eight, when Kal and his Human girlfriend, Lois Lane, came to Dinner. Now, though, it was only five.

Dr. Emil Hamilton had unexpectedly been called away…

* * *

Dr. Hamilton was at the Pentagon, feeling hungry, out of sorts, and not a little frightened.

NASA had been conducting experiments with the new Phantom Drive engines, sending unmanned probes all over the galaxy. The experiments had been successful, and Hamilton was still trying to work out the implications of that in his mind.

_We have a functional hyper-spatial drive..._

Someone had apparently noticed…

Long-range satellites focused on the Asteroid Belt had caught the intruder progressing through the Asteroid Belt, and Hamilton might very well have thought it a comet, or a rogue asteroid.

_But asteroids don't generally make course corrections..._

Someone was at the helm…

_More aliens...Oh, joy..._

General Swanwick was also there, staring at the monitor.

“How long before they enter earth orbit?”

“Somewhere close to noon, I think, sir.”

The aggravating thing was that something was fouling the scanners. The intruder was showing on radar and such. But no camera was able to get a clear picture of what the ship looked like, and they wouldn’t until the ship-whatever it was-actually entered orbit.

“Call Jor El,” Swanwick ordered. “Bring him into this.”

“Yes, sir,” Hamilton already had his cellphone out.

At this time of night, just past midnight, he might have expected the call to go straight to voicemail. But Jor El was a notorious night owl…

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Jor,”

“Emil, where are you and why are you awake at this time of night?”

Hamilton took a deep breath.

“We may have a situation,” he finally admitted. “A car has been sent for you.”

“What is it?”

“More ETs, Jor. General Swanwick thinks you should be involved in this, and I agree.”

“All right, I’ll be waiting…”

They hung up and Hamilton swung his attention back to the monitor showing the intruder’s progress.

_Who are you?_

* * *

_One of the benefits of being a Kryptonian on Earth is that one tires less easily..._

It was almost noon of the following day, Jor El had gotten no sleep at all, yet he was still, as the Terran saying went, _as fresh as a daisy..._

He had been picked up by a Marine Corporal in plainclothes. A jet was waiting for him at the airport, and now he was here, at the Pentagon, along with Dr. Hamilton and General Swanwick, watching as the intruder made its final approach, still using advanced technology to foul the Terran Scanners.

To his knowledge, there were only a very few civilizations capable of doing all of that. One of those civilizations was Krypton...

“Have they answered our hails?” Swanwick was remarkably calm for someone facing potential alien invasion.

“No, sir,” Hamilton responded. “They are maintaining complete radio silence.”

But now the intruder was here, sliding into earth orbit. They must have turned off whatever they were using to futz the Terran scanners, because, now, the ship was suddenly clearly visible, and Jor El felt his mouth go dry.

Kryptonian…

It was a Command Module; the equivalent of a dreadnought, and a general would be in charge.

_Who will they have chosen to replace Zod?  Tyr?  Or Vax?_

“Sir!” a Junior Tech spoke up. “There are thousands of…devices leaving the ship.”

“How big?

” “Think they’re the size of baseballs, Sir,” another tech spoke up. “And it looks like there’s millions of them, not thousands.”

“Scan-droids…”

Jor El stood there, staring up at the wall monitor. The scan-droids were scattering, in their millions, all over the world; a large percentage flocking all over America.

_They're searching.  For us..._

He pulled out his cellphone, speed-dialed home.

“Hardy speaking.”

“Where’s everyone, Nathan?”

“Lara’s working at the hospital, Zod’s probably at the Bourse by now, and Faora’s here. What’s up?”

“The Kryptonians are here. They’ve sent millions of scan-droids all over the world, including Metropolis. Get everyone together and take them to the Air Force Base.”

“Right,” Hardy hung up and Jor El found himself praying.

_Please...Let us escape their notice..._

* * *

Hardy cursed fluently in Mandarin…

“Faora!” he bellowed.

“What?” Faora poked her head out of the kitchen, calmly munching on a peanut butter sandwich.

“Jor El just called. More Kryptonians have arrived, and they’re using what he called scan-droids. Go to the hospital, get Lara, and take her to the base. You stay there too.”

“What about General Zod?” Faora had dropped her sandwich.

“I’ll get him,” Hardy grabbed two sets of keys, tossed one to Faora.Then they were both off, Faora in the red sportster, Hardy in the SUV. While driving, Hardy dialed Zod’s cellphone number, but the call went straight to voicemail.

_He's playing chess..._

His cellphone rang, and it was Dr. Hamilton, sounding a little agitated…

“The visitors have sent a ship down,” he announced. “Looks like it’s heading for Metropolis. I think they’ve seen our refugees…”

“Oh… _crap_ …” Hardy opened his window, set a bubble light on the roof of the SUV. Now, with the light whirling and flashing, he floored the accelerator…

Finally, he reached the car lot just off the park. Zod and Andrew St. Claire were visible, sitting at a table, totally engrossed in their game.

Hardy was about to get out of the car. Then he noticed the figure standing right in front of him. Male…huge, and wearing the _freakiest_ set of body armor he had ever seen…

* * *

Zod watched as Andrew St. Claire stared at the board, brow furrowed. Finally, the Human sighed, and tipped his King over in surrender.

“The Student has become the Master,” he held out his hand, and gripped Zod’s hand.There was a pretty fair measure of pride in St. Claire’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Zod stood, adjusted those damned itchy nasal cannulas. “One more coffee?”

“Certainly,” St. Claire stood, and the two men cleaned up the chess kit before turning back towards the Koffee Klatch.

Something flickered on the edge of Zod’s vision, and he moved instinctively, hauling St. Claire out of the way.

A SUV flew through the air, landing, upside down, just a few feet away from Zod. Everyone in the park, Andrew St. Claire included, scattered like frightened sheep. It occurred to Zod that maybe he should run too. But he knew that SUV, and who generally drove it…

The driver-side window was open and he bent to look inside…

“Nathan?”

“I’m okay, Zod. Gimme a sec…”

A battered-looking Colonel Hardy hauled himself out through the open window, barking orders on his cellphone.

“We have a situation at the Grande Bourse, in front of the Koffee Klatch. Send a full armored detail ASAP!"

He reeled a little as he spoke, and Zod grabbed him by the shoulder to steady him. Blood was dripping from the Colonel’s nose and from a nasty gash to the right temple.

“We have to get you out of here, Zod,” he explained. “Kryptonians have arrived, and Jor El thinks they’re here for you guys. We’ve gotta go now.”

“It might be too late for that…”

Now, Zod saw the figure slowly approaching them.

_Kryptonian Front Line Fighter.  Not too big on brains.  But, then, they don't need to be..._

Front Line Fighters were the shock troops of the Kryptonian military.

_Give one of those an order and he'll chew right through everything until the mission is complete..._

“Run, Nathan!”

“Not without you, I’m not!”

Zod felt Hardy grab his arm. But the Front Line Fighter got there first.

In Terran terms, it felt a lot like getting hit by a semi…

Stars exploded inside Zod’s skull, and now, suddenly, he was lying on hard cement…

_I was standing on grass just a second ago..._

The darkness descended swiftly...

* * *

Colonel Hardy hauled himself roughly upright. The world was wobbling, and his vision kept on threatening to gray out. But he had other concerns…

_Zod?_

There!

Judging by the dent in the white minivan, Zod had been hurled directly into it. Now, he lay face down, like a dead thing, on the sidewalk, and, at this distance, Hardy couldn’t even tell if the man was breathing.

That armored… _thing_ …was calmly walking up to where Zod lay.

“Hey!” Hardy staggered forward, gun drawn. He fired several rounds into the creature; may as well have been blanks for all the good it did.

The figure hefted the dented white minivan in one huge hand.

“Oh…shit…” Hardy barely managed to roll out of the way in time. As he moved, the creature walked up to Zod, hauled the unconscious man over its shoulder.

Then…

He jumped…

He jumped and flew straight up into the air, and was gone from sight.

With Zod…

Hardy’s legs gave out from under him, and he slid onto his arse with a thud.

Sirens were wailing in the distance, getting closer.

_Too late now..._

Then, Jor El was running up to him, Emil Hamilton right behind.

_Shit...shit...shit..._

“Where’s Zod,” Jor El was looking around.

Hardy closed his eyes, opened them again.

“I’m sorry, Jor,” he truly hated having to be the bearer of bad news; but _this_ , especially sucked…

“There was nothing I could do to stop that guy,” he continued. “Bullets didn’t even slow him down. What the hell was he anyway?”

“A Front Line Fighter.” Jor El said. “There’s very little in your armory, short of heavy missile bombardment, that could stop one of those.”

Hardy struggled to his feet.

“We’ll get him back,” he tried to reassure the Kryptonian.

“If they don’t kill him first,” Jor El looked skyward, anguish in his eyes.

* * *

Head pounding…throbbing…

Everything was heavier now, gravity pressing him into the floor, pressing upon his chest and back. Zod huddled in upon himself, and it was all he could do merely to breathe…

Presently, he became aware that several people stood over him, conversing in muted whispers,

“That’s the great General Zod?” a voice spoke over him, sneering in disdain.

“Yes,” another voice. “That’s the traitor.”

The sound of a door sliding open, more booted feet entering.

“Has he awakened yet?” Zod knew that voice. Den Tyr, a competent enough military administrator, but, like Jax Ur, a morally bankrupt soul.

_These are Krypton's leaders now..._

A booted foot nudged him, none too gently

. “You’re awake Zod,” Tyr’s voice was heavy, full of contempt.

“Get him on his feet.” Strong hands hauled Zod to his feet, and his legs buckled under the heavy gravity and air.

“What happened to you, Zod?” Tyr spoke in disgust. “Look at you…”

Zod only shook his head.

“If you’re going to kill me,’ he grated. “Do it and get it over with.”

“Not yet,” Tyr was smiling. “Jor El, and the women, are still at large. You will be the bargaining chip that will bring the others in. Once we have them all, then, you will be allowed to die.”

Tyr turned, began to walk away.

“Leave him here,” he spoke without turning; and the others dropped Zod, letting him fall to the floor.

He lay there, alone. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to live.

_Don't come to save me, Jor El.  Save yourself and the others.  Let me die here..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to rescue Zod. Warning, major Character Death.

Fugitives Chapter 4

In Jor El’s opinion, Colonel Nathan Hardy looked like death warmed over. But there wasn’t any time to rest. It was very early morning now, just barely six AM the day after Zod had been taken by the Kryptonians.

There were still a few of those Front Line Fighters out and about, and Kal, and Faora, were doing their best to get rid of them, backed by the USAF.

Jor El had gotten Lara to hide out on Kal’s survey ship, which was now hiding under the deepest part of the Pacific Ocean. So everyone was accounted for.

Except for Zod.

Now, Jor El was at the Pentagon, along with Nathan Hardy, replaying the message sent by Zod’s captors.

_This is General Tyr, speaking for the Kryptonian people.  We demand that Jor El surrender himself immediately.  Disobediance will carry grave consequences for Zod._

Colonel Hardy was chewing his lip.

“Would they really kill him if you don’t comply?”

Jor El sighed.

“Not so long ago, I might have said _no_. Now, though…The Council has changed. It’s entirely possible they could kill him out of hand…”

“So we go and get him back,”

Hardy was trying his best to reassure Jor El, and he did appreciate that.

But…

“To get to Zod, we have to get in,” Jor El mused. “And I can think of only one way to do that.”

“Yeah? What’s your bright idea?” Hardy picked up his coffee.

“I surrender myself to them…”

Jor El had heard the term, _spit take_ , before, and had often wondered what it meant. Now, he knew…

Cursing, Hardy wiped his face with a paper towel.

“And that’s gonna work out so well,” he spoke sarcastically. “They’ll kill both of you then.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You’d better have something that looks like a plan, then; like something that will let us go Charles Bronson on their asses.”

“Charles Bronson?” now Jor El was confused. “Is this something like…Babelfish?”

“No, it’s Death Wish, as in…”Hardy sighed. “Sorry…I forgot you don’t really know our culture. What I meant is something like  _termination with extreme prejudice_ ”

“Oh,” Jor El nodded. Now he understood. “I could certainly get behind that.”

“Good,” Hardy leveled a stare at him. “And you are most definitely not going into this alone. Am I clear on that?”

“But-“

“Look, Jor, Zod’s our friend, and you are too; and friends don’t let friends go on suicide missions alone.”

Jor El felt his world lighten. “All right,” he said. “Let’s talk to General Swanwick.”

* * *

It didn’t take long to hash out the details. Jor El would turn himself in, and Hardy, in the role of officially-sanctioned Observer, would have a much more clandestine role once they got to the Kryptonian Command Module.

It was almost time, and Hardy knocked on the office door.

“Enter,” Jor El was putting four digital recordings away.

“For Kal, Lara, Zod, and General Swanwick,” he explained. “Just in case things don’t go as planned.”

“They never do,” Hardy agreed. “Emil spoke to me a few minutes ago; and I want you to face the possibility that Zod, given his condition, might not make it, in spite of our best efforts.”

Hardy saw Jor El close his eyes briefly. So the thought had occurred to him.

The Kryptonian turned to him.

“You may find this hard to believe,” he said. “But right now, Zod is far more important than I am. If he dies during the rescue attempt, we will all be, as the Terran saying has it, _well and truly screwed_.”

“Not to doubt you, Jor, but…why?”

“Before our…fall from grace, Zod was a General.”

“Like this Tyr guy?”

“ _Nothing_ like Tyr,” Jor El was looking at nothing, remembering…

“Zod was the youngest, most truly brilliant General Krypton has ever had.” Jor El turned back to Hardy. “If they decide to invade, and I’m fairly sure they will, eventually, you will need someone who understands Kryptonian strategy and tactics. There is no one better than Zod at strategy and tactics..."

 Jor El rummaged around the desk, found what looked like a data-stick with an S inscribed into the top. He handed it to Hardy.

“What’s this?” Hardy hefted it in the palm of his hand.

“Our secret weapon,” Jor El explained. “You must demand to see Zod, use whatever pretext to get you there. Once you’re in the room they’re holding Zod in, look for a data-port. Even if they’re keeping him in a prison cell, there will be a port there that will accept this. Slide this in, and it will…infect the ship’s mainframe. As soon as that’s done, put it back in your pocket, you’ll need it again, I’m sure. Then, you must get him to the docking bay. There will be all sorts of ships there, free to be stolen.”

“You know what?” Hardy stuffed the data stick into a pocket. “You’re an incurable optimist.”

“So I have been told,” Jor El smiled ruefully. “By Zod, himself, many times.”

Hardy nodded, and Jor El felt a rush of sheer affection for this blunt soldier.

“Let’s do this,” the Terran said.

 _Indeed_ …

Jor El needed only a few more minutes, a few final preparations to make.

Then, it was time to go…

Everything was arranged.

Now, Jor El waited, along with Colonel Nathan Hardy, and a small armored unit out in a mostly deserted area just off Death Valley.

They all heard the sonic boom...

The Kryptonian shuttle appeared, hovered briefly, and then landed. A door slid open, and a squad of Front Line Fighters appeared.

 _We are all so dead if they decide to get feisty..._ Jor El thought.  _Hopefully, the Americans will keep their heads..._

Hardy was keeping a wary eye on them. But the Fighters weren’t attacking. Apparently they were performing the function of Honor Guard this time. The male figure that stepped out from the ship in their wake was much smaller and slimmer.

“I am Sub-Commander Val Saar,” he announced; and now it was time for Hardy to act out his part.\

“I am Colonel Nathan Hardy. I have been deputized by the President of the United States to act as Liaison. Jor El has turned himself in as per your demand. In accordance with my duties as Liaison, I formally request to come aboard and see the other prisoner, Zod, in order to make an exact determination as to his condition.”

Saar was obviously startled by his request.

“Why?”

“We have…humanitarian concerns. Zod’s health is known to be frail, and I’ve been told that the Kryptonian environment is no longer healthy for him.”

“I will see what can be done,” Saar turned slightly, obviously communing with his superiors.

“Nicely done,” Jor El whispered out of the side of his mouth.

“Thanks,” Hardy whispered back. “Here’s hoping the rest of it will be this easy…”

“As I’ve heard you say before, Nathan,” Jor El’s grin was crooked. “Not bloody likely.”

Saar turned to face them.

“Your request is granted, Colonel Hardy,” he finally said. “Please join us.”

They entered the shuttle, and the ship took off, heading for the Command Module.

As the ship sped upward, a Kryptonian approached with a helmet for Hardy.

“When we arrive, you will find the air impossible to breathe,”

Hardy thanked her and put the helmet on. Now, he was as ready as he could be, given the circumstances…

* * *

Once there, Jor El and Hardy followed Saar down to where General Tyr waited.

_It all depends upon Nathan now..._

A tank of a man stood before him; blunt and forceful, General Tyr had none of Zod’s somewhat brooding sensitivity.

“Jor El,” the man said. “It’s good to see you again after all this time.”

Jor El sighed.

“If you wanted to see me that much, you could have dropped a note. You didn’t have to kidnap Zod.”

“Matters have become…urgent,” Tyr admitted. “Things have changed since you left Krypton.”

“Changed? What do you mean by that? Surely it is by the Council’s command you come here, to bother Zod and me when we only wish to live in peace-“

“The Council is fallen,” Tyr spoke suddenly. “Jax Ur has accomplished what Zod should have done years ago.”

Hardy cleared his throat suddenly, reminding the others of his presence.

“Where is Zod being held? I would like to see him, and assess his condition.”

“Saar,” Tyr waved a hand. “Take him to Zod.”

Saar led the way, and now it was just Jor El and Tyr.

Tyr turned back to Jor El, and there was fury in his eyes.

“Jax ordered me to kill both of you; to erase you both from the universe itself. And, since his rule is now absolute, I have no choice but to kill you. He also wants the nicety of a formal trial, so the forms will be obeyed, at least. But there will be no banishment to the Phantom Zone for either of you.”

“Jax wants us dead? Why?”

“You must be the biggest fool in all creation. Jor El, the Humans have the Phantom Drive. Who gave it to them? You? Or Zod?”

“Our ship crashed,” Jor El said. “The Humans figured it out pretty much on their own.”

“Even worse,” Tyr mused. “I suppose Jax will probably order the planet sterilized too. Quite a pity. It’s such a pretty little planet, isn’t it?”

* * *

Zod was floating in an ocean of darkness now. In rare moments of lucidity, he was pretty sure he was dying here; which was ironic when he thought about it.

_My home planet's air and gravity is killing me..._

 All he had left now was pain, and that ocean of darkness was a blessing. He could float here, in this warmth and peace, until it was time to die…

_Wake up, Zod..._

A hand lightly slapping his face…

_C'mon, pal...It's me, it's Nathan..._

Nathan Hardy’s voice tugged at him, pulled him out of the warm ocean…

Everything hurt now, and he huddled in upon himself…

“It’s okay, Zod,” Nathan Hardy, wearing a Kryptonian helmet, was looking down at him.

“Nathan…”

“Hang on Zod,” Hardy was looking around. “Need to do something…”

He stood.

“Where is it? Ah…there.”

From where Zod lay, it looked like Hardy had found a data-port. He stuck something in there…

…and the elephant sitting on Zod’s chest disappeared…

He could breathe again…

Hardy turned back to him, sticking the thing back into a pocket.

“Feeling better now?” he helped Zod sit up.

“What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, Zod. Can you run?”

“I’m not sure I can _stand_ , Nathan,” All Zod felt was incredulity. “Of all the hare-brained…”

“Please state the nature of your emergency.”

Zod was startled by what sounded like Jor El’s voice; and Hardy…well, Zod heard what sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter, followed by a muttered _forty-two_.

But that didn’t make any sense at all…

“We need to get to the docking bay,” Hardy was all business now. “Jor El will be joining us-“

“He is heading toward our location, and will meet us en route.” The avatar said.

“Good,” Zod felt Hardy haul him to his feet, one arm firmly around his waist. The door slid open, and they staggered out… Into chaos…

* * *

 _That's more chaos than one little computer virus could account for_ , Hardy thought to himself. _What have you been up to, Jor El?_

In all the confusion, no one noticed the lone Human half-carrying a prisoner out of the cell. Hardy moved as quickly as he could, Zod stumbling along at his side.

_Where are you, Jor?_

Speak of the devil…

There, Jor El was, taking up position at Zod’s left side.

Unless…

“You’re not the avatar, are you?”

“No,” Jor El prepped a small device, stuck it to a wall. “Run!”

They ran, supporting Zod between them as something exploded behind them.

“We must hurry!” Jor El panted. “Soon they will regain control of the mainframe. The avatar has resisted attempts to re-take the docking bay, so we should be fine once we get there.”

“How do we get off?” Hardy barely heard the answer, as occupied as he was with keeping Zod on his feet.

“The shuttle we came in on will be there.”

With Jor El covering their retreat, they made it to the docking bay. That was when it happened…

Hardy and Zod ran on through. But Jor El careened right into a force barrier of some sort.

Hardy looked back at the shuttle waiting there. Lights were on, and the door was open. But Jor El…

He was on the other side of the barrier. Zod had stopped, swaying slightly.

“Where’s the over-ride?” he muttered. “Got to get that down. Hang on Jor…”

Hardy looked at Jor El.

_He's doomed, and he knows it..._

Jor El’s eyes caught his in an unspoken plea…

A slight nod in Zod’s direction. Hardy closed his eyes.

_God..._

He sighed, and opened his eyes. Then, he nodded back and walked up to Zod.

The man was still looking for a manual over-ride. Stepping behind Zod, he wrapped both arms around him, immobilizing him, dragging him backward, to the shuttle…

Zod struggled, he fought, and perhaps it was a good thing that he wasn’t as strong as he used to be.

As he dragged Zod backward, into the ship, he saw Jor El standing there, hand raised in farewell…

* * *

_He knows he is dead.  His heart beats, and he breathes,  But he is dead, along with every living soul on the Command Module_

_"Forgive me, Lara..."_ _he mutters softly._

Colonel Hardy dragged Zod into the shuttle. The Jor El avatar was already there, firing up the engine, closing the door.

“He’s still there, Nathan!”

“I know, Zod. I know…”

“We are ready for takeoff,” the avatar’s voice announced. “However, I no longer have control of the docking bay doors.”

“Is the shuttle armed?” Hardy held on to Zod, heard the man’s whisper…

 _No...no...no..._ _  
_

“Yes,” the avatar replied. “We have four Level 5 Las-cannon.”

“Then blast your way out,” Hardy was too busy hanging on to Zod. “Get us planet-side ASAP.”

 _Jor El watches the shuttle come alive, watches as it turns to face the bay doors, las-cannon flaring_. _Then, it flees through the great gaping hole.  They're escaping_ …

_Zod is escaping..._

_Jor El hears the footsteps behind him, prepares his final surprise, holds it in a clenched fist..._

_"General Tyr," he nods congenially, then opens his hand wide, so Tyr can see what he holds_. _The little thing is already primed and flickering..._

_Tyr freezes, horror in his eyes, and Jor El smiles, almost sweetly._

_"Checkmate," he says as he lets the thing slip from his fingers._

  _"Noo!_ " _he hears Tyr scream as the tiny little orb hits the floor._ _The last thing Jor El sees is blinding white light._   _Then, the white light swallows everything, and Jor El sees nothing anymore..._

The shuttle sped away from the Command Module.

“Damn you!” Zod raged. “We’re leaving him behind!"

Hardy kept his grip on Zod, half afraid the man would do something stupid in his rage. The shuttle, under the guidance of the avatar, was heading to Earth, the view screen aimed back at the Command Module.

A sudden white hot flash almost blinded Hardy, and he felt Zod’s body stiffen in shock.

_What...was..?_

Where the Command Module had been, there was now this expanding white, fiery…blossom…

Power, heat, and blinding white light spread out in all directions…

And Zod screamed…

“No! No…no…no…”

Hardy couldn’t do anything but hang on to Zod. But his eyes were fixed upon the space where the Command Module had been only a few seconds ago…

_Jor El..._

_He bought Zod's life with his own..._

Zod’s legs buckled, and he sank to his knees, Hardy sinking down with him, continuing to hold on to him…

* * *

Metropolis Air Force Base The helicopter set down on the helipad just in front of the Medical Wing. Dr. Emil Hamilton jumped out first, followed by Jor El’s spouse, Lara. Colonel Nathan Hardy was waiting for them, his features pinched with weariness…

“Zod?”

“He isn’t good, Emil,” there was something in Hardy’s eyes.

_Grief?_

Hardy turned to Lara, suddenly  _very_ formal, and Hamilton felt alarm tingle up his spine.

“Ma’am, “the Colonel continued. “I regret to inform you, that your husband, Jor El was killed aboard the Command Module.”

_Sweet Jesus..._

Hamilton backed away. This wasn’t for him to witness.

He had a patient to see…

Zod was the only patient in ICU right now. He wasn’t lying down. He was sitting, back against the headboard, knees drawn up to his chest, head bowed.

"Zod,” Hamilton spoke softly, and the man slowly lifted his head.

The dark blue eyes were dry, but empty.

_God..._

It hurt to look at Zod, but he had a job to do.

Pulse and blood pressure were both good, and now that he was back on the oxygen, Zod’s breathing was getting back to normal too…

But that empty-eyed gaze told Hamilton a different story.

Zod was about as far removed from  _normal_ as it was possible for a man to get.

 _Small steps..._ Hamilton told himself.

_First thing, get him bedded down for the night..._

So, he got Zod to lie down, and tucked him in for the night.

“If you need anything,” Hamilton said. “I’ll be right outside.”

But he couldn’t be sure that Zod heard.

_Damn..._

He dimmed the lights, prayed Zod would sleep, that he would be better come the morning…

“Any instructions?” the Head Nurse asked.

“Yeah…” Hamilton hated doing this. “I want him put on Suicide Watch. He is to be under constant surveillance until I say otherwise.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hamilton sighed as he stepped out into the hall. Nathan Hardy was there, leaning against a wall, head bowed.

Lara was gone; perhaps to find a private place within which to grieve.

“Nate…”

No response…

_Asleep on his feet..._

Hamilton laid a gentle hand on Hardy’s right shoulder. The man jerked awake with a hiss of pain.

“I’m awake…” he mumbled.

“You’re also hurt!” Hamilton scolded him. “Please tell me you didn’t just go on a rescue mission with broken ribs?”

“Not broken, I don’t think…”

_Christ on a motorbike..._

“Take your shirt off Nate, and let me look…”

Nothing was broken, or even cracked, much to Hamilton’s relief. Just lots of bruised tissue…

“You’re going to be hurting for quite a few days,” Hamilton informed him.

“Gee, ya think?”

Hamilton rolled his eyes.

“Just get some sleep Nate. You did everything you could.”

“Yeah…” Hardy muttered. “And it all turned out so well, didn’t it?”

“Go to bed, Nate. Sleep. We’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes…”

There was a sofa in the Nurse’s Station, just barely long enough for Hardy. A nurse provided pillows and a warm blanket-fresh from the microwave-and Hardy, at least, was asleep in minutes.

Zod had huddled himself under the blankets, so Hamilton couldn’t really tell if he was sleeping…

Now, Hamilton, and the On-Call Nurse sat there together, sipping fresh hot coffee…

It was going to be a long night…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zod is forced to make a horrifying decision.

Fugitives Chapter 5

Earth had successfully repelled its first extraterrestrial invasion. Actually, it had been Jor El who had done all of the work, ably assisted by Colonel Nathan Hardy. They had gone up to the Kryptonian Command Module to rescue Zod, via the ruse of a false surrender to the Kryptonian Commander; and Zod, at least, had been rescued, and the Command Module destroyed with all hands aboard her.

So…victory, of a sort.

But Jor El had died during the rescue, and the survivors were still, two months on, dealing with the fallout from that one single death.

The President had decreed that Jor El be given a hero’s funeral, and so a coffin bearing Jor El’s dates of birth and death had been interred at Arlington National Cemetery, with all the pomp that went with these funerals.

Lara was, as to be expected, numb with grief. But Nature had given her a gift, a boon…

She was with child, a last gift from Jor El, and Kal El, who had just lost his father-again-was soon to gain a brother or sister.

For Zod, there was nothing to leaven the bitterness of losing his only true friend; all he had was the other Kryptonians he had come to Earth with, and those few friends he had made at the VA Center, and at the Koffee Klatch…

The Terrans had not been idle during the intervening two months. Working through the UN, the various national space agencies had joined together to create a truly stupendous surveillance system located partly in the Asteroid Belt, and partly in the outer reaches of the Solar System. If anything entered the Solar System, they were damn well going to know about it.

As for  _defending_ against whatever came, well…

That was going to be another matter entirely…

* * *

Colonel Nathan Hardy sighed as he drove the SUV, a brand-new model, out of Metropolis. It was early June, and Martha Kent had invited everyone over for a picnic lunch.

The Kryptonians had met her before, of course, but, due to Zod’s physical frailties, she had come to the apartment in Metropolis. The doctors had initially been worried that Zod’s lungs might not be up to handling Earth’s pollen and all the various other allergens out there; tree mold and such, and Martha Kent lived in rural Kansas…

As it turned out, Terran allergens didn’t bother Zod at all, so the doctors decreed Zod could visit the Kent House for an afternoon picnic.

Hardy sighed again. It was a singularly joyless group he was shepherding to the Kent House today.

Lara, at least, was beginning to show signs of her pregnancy, and, even through the sadness of being so newly widowed, there was the unmistakable glow that all mothers got when they were with child…

Faora Ul, though, was grumpy, and bored out of her wits. It was clear that the only reason she was going to this picnic was because Zod was going to this picnic; and Zod…

The only reason he was going was because Dr. Emil Hamilton had all but ordered him to go to the picnic.

Dr. Hamilton was here too, sitting right next to Hardy. He was worried about Zod’s mental state, and Hardy had to admit he was worried too.

Hamilton had had Zod put on Suicide Watch in the immediate aftermath of Jor El’s death. Zod hadn’t tried to kill himself.

But he didn't have to…

Instead, Zod was…shutting down.

He was turning off…tuning out…

He was continuing his daily routine, the walks and his volunteer job at the VA Center. But he was merely going through the motions; not living a life.

 _maybe this picnic might help_ …

But Hardy wasn’t about to make book on it…

The day was warm and sunny, perfect picnic weather, and the large oaken table had been covered by a clean white cloth. The table was also heavily loaded with all sorts of good food.

Martha Kent believed in good, old-fashioned home cooking, and there was no instant  _anything_ to be found on that table. Even the lemonade had been fresh-squeezed from real lemons, and sweetened with a simple syrup Martha had made the day before.

Kal El, and his girlfriend, Lois Lane, were also here, helping set the table, and Martha greeted her guests warmly. As everyone took their seats, Hardy stepped over to Hamilton.

“Think this will help any?” he asked the scientist.

“I don’t know,” Hamilton shrugged. “He needs… _something_ , though. I just don’t know what.”

“We’re gonna need to find out what it is that he needs, and we need to do it soon. We probably don’t have all that long before they return.”

“And Zod’s going to be able to help…how?”

“Before he died,” Hardy explained. “Jor El told me that Zod used to be a general back in the day.”

“You’re kidding…”

“So, if they do come back, Zod’s really going to be our only hope.”

“Cripes…” Hamilton drew in a deep breath. “Have you told General Swanwick?”

“Yeah,” Hardy was looking at the others as he spoke. “He ordered me to keep Zod alive and well at all costs.”

“So…”

“Krypton could arrive tomorrow, or a year from tomorrow, Emil. If they come tomorrow, do you think Zod would be capable of defending us against his own people?”

Hardy was looking at Zod as he spoke. The man was sitting at the table, plate of food in front of him untouched. His eyes were shadowed, and Hardy knew that look.

 _Old ghosts_ …

* * *

It was perhaps seven months later, and Lara finally gave birth to her child, a girl child she named Jai El; and Zod finally worked up the courage to visit them both at the hospital.

Now, Jai was snuggled in her mother’s arms, and Zod was assailed with guilt.

“He died saving my life,” he murmured.

“It’s not your fault,” Lara looked up at him, eyes welling. “Jor always made his own choices. You know that.”

Zod nodded. That was true.

 _If only I were stronger_ …

If the Kryptonians came back…

 _Even the weakest of them could break me now_ …

He looked down at the newborn girl, a second natural birth in violation of Kryptonian Sacred Law.

  _But we are no longer on Krypton, are we?_

 He stroked the baby’s cheek, a chubby little hand reached out and grabbed his finger, and Zod felt something twist deep inside his chest.

“She has her father’s eyes,” he couldn’t quite keep the tremor out of his voice.

“I know,” Lara kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

When Zod returned to the apartment, he found Colonel Hardy there, along with General Swanwick. Both men wore grim expressions, and Zod felt alarm prickle up his spine.

“Zod,” Swanwick spoke quietly. “We need to talk.”

“They’re…back?” cold dread iced Zod’s veins.

“We caught a Kryptonian Scout just inside the Asteroid Belt,” the general explained. “We destroyed it. But then our long range extra-solar scanners caught this…”

 He held out a photograph. Zod looked at it.

 _Three Command Modules_ , _five Destroyers_ , _five hundred Fighters_ ; _an invasion force plain and simple_ …

Zod looked back to Swanwick, dreading what the man would say next.

“We need your help, Zod.”

_No...please...no..._

General Swanwick continued to speak.

“Jor El left a message for you.”

“He did?” sudden rage sizzled through Zod. “Why didn’t I get it?”

“Because Jor El left…stringent conditions for you to receive this,” Swanwick replied calmly. “One requirement was that he had to be dead, and the other condition was that the Kryptonians had to return in force.”

He handed an IPAD, equipped with earbuds, to Zod. Then, he and Hardy stepped into the kitchen, giving Zod a measure of privacy within which to view the message.

And there his friend was; Jor El, with that smile of his...

_Hello, my friend.  If you are viewing this, then I am dead, and unable to help you, or the Humans, in any way, and Krypton has returned with an invasion force, and the Humans are facing extermination for the crime of giving four refugees shelter..._

Zod was trembling now.

“Please, Jor,” he whispered. “Don’t ask this of me…”

_I won't claim to understand what this is doing to you, the pain I am causing you merely by asking you to do this.  But Zod, these Humans, as fractious and pugnacious as they are, have proven truer, by far, than our own kith and kin.  Krypton betrayed us, and now Krypton seeks to punish those who have given us shelter.  The Krypton of our youth is dead and gone, become venal and greedy..._

Zod sank to his knees, head bowing…

 _The Humans barely have the technology to fight Krypton._ _Even Kal and Faora, working together_ , _won't have what it takes to defeat such an invasion force_ ; _although it is certain that they will try, and die in the attempt_. _Without **you**_ , _Zod_ , _to lead them_ , _to defend them_ , _Krypton will grind the people of Earth into dust_ …

* * *

“Do you think it will help?” Swanwick turned to Hardy, and the Colonel could only shrug helplessly. Zod was on the edge right now.

 _And we just gave him a nasty shove_ …

But what else could they do?

 _Their weapons will be better than ours_ , _and they'll all be way stronger than we are_. _On our own, we might as well bend over and take it_. _But Zod_ , _with his knowledge of Kryptonian strategy and tactics_ , _he could save us all_ …

But they were asking him to fight against his own people.

Zod stepped into the kitchen around five minutes later, and Hardy found it difficult to look at him.

The ever-present nasal cannulas, the denims and the tee, none of that disguised the fact that Zod was too thin now, too frail, to bear the weight of what they were all asking of him.

Zod’s features were haggard, exhausted; as if he had spent an entire sleepless night in that room, instead of just five minutes.

 _No...We're demanding too much of him_.  _He's already lost too much_ …

But Hardy couldn’t say it.

There wasn’t any choice but this one right here. Earth’s very survival was at stake.

Zod closed his eyes briefly, anguish twisting his features. Then, he bowed his head, and a deep sigh trembled its way out of him.

When he lifted his head again, his eyes were calm

. “If I do this,” he spoke slowly. “I will need complete control of all of Earth’s military forces. Everyone will have to accept my authority without question.”

“Yes,” General Swanwick nodded. “We’ll formalize things at the UN. Thank you, Zod.”

Zod nodded at that, grief in his eyes; then walked into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Nathan Hardy let out the breath he had been holding. Zod had agreed to help them, and because of that, Earth now had a measure of hope that it hadn’t before. But…

 _We just asked Zod to make war against his own people_.


	6. Fugitives, Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle for Earth will decide the Fate of the Humans, and their place in Galactic history...

_UN Building, NYC_

The United Nations had just convened an emergency session in light of the threat posed by the Kryptonian Fleet waiting just outside of the Solar system.

Only one good thing could be said to come out of this; petty religious and ideological differences had been set aside for the duration, although-human nature being what it was-no one could say just how long this accord would last.

 _Pray it lasts long enough_ …

Zod had arrived, with General Swanwick, to participate in this extraordinary meeting. He knew why Swanwick had brought him along; but he really had to wonder…

 _Will these people really give command of all their forces to a crippled alien_?

For the first time in ages, he had donned his Kryptonian General’s Warrior Leathers, with the House of Zod Crest on the chest; and, after all this time, it felt…odd, like wearing a new skin…

The nasal cannulas itched, like they always did, but Zod had become used to that. The people were all staring at him. The fact that he was of extraterrestrial origin had never been kept secret, so the Delegates had known of his existence for a while now. But this was the first time any of them had ever met him.

The Russian Delegate turned to him and spoke in fluent English, apparently not trusting the… _Babelfish_ …to get it right.

“General Swanwick has proposed that we all turn over command of our combined militaries to You, Mr. Zod. May I ask what qualifications you have to command military forces?”

Zod nodded.

“I served in the Kryptonian Armed forces my whole life,” he said. “At the height of my career, in fact, I was the top General, in command of the entire Kryptonian military arm. I was considered their best and greatest strategist and tactician. I know the weapons they will bring to bear, and I know the strategies and tactics they’ll be using. As of now, they both outnumber you, and outgun you. You won’t win without my help, and they will not be merciful in their victory.”

The Delegate sighed. Everyone knew Zod was speaking the plain truth here. But the Delegate had one more question for him…

“Why help us? The Kryptonians are your people, not us.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Zod interrupted. “”Dr. Emil Hamilton has postulated that both you and I hail from a third unknown race. He’s proven that we are genetically exactly alike. So…Either you’re Kryptonian, or we are Human.”

“But that doesn’t answer the question,” the Delegate persisted.

Zod sighed, remembering what Jor El had said just after they had arrived here.

“Earth is my home now,” he finally said. “You people gave me, and my friends, shelter when we needed it, and a place to call home. If this is the way I can pay my debt to you, then so be it. I will save you if I can; for if you fall, it is certain that I will die with you.”

In the end, the vote had been unanimous, and Zod found he was a General again. There wasn’t much time, and there was so much to do…

But he had formulated a plan of action, one that would horrify the men and women who had trained him when he was a child…

Upon his command, the Terran engineers and ship builders were building as many Phantom Drive capable drones as they could, and also outfitting many of them with EMP weaponry.

* * *

Three Months later…

Colonel Nathan Hardy, freshly appointed to be General Zod’s personal Aide, could hardly believe the Kryptonians had waited this long, but apparently they had…

Whatever the reason-arrogance or other political concerns-that three-month wait had been an unmitigated blessing. There had been time to build those thousands of drones General Zod had ordered, and also plenty of time to mine the Asteroid Belt; and the Asteroid Belt had been seeded with some truly nasty stuff, just in case anything got past the drones, which were the first line of defense…

Now, it was time, the Kryptonian Fleet finally beginning to move into the system. Hardy was watching the banks of monitors, as was the General. Then, Zod looked down at the headset in his hands.

“You okay, General?” he pitched his voice for Zod’s ears alone.

Zod sighed, then he straightened, and slid the headset on.

“It’s time,” he said to everyone in the room. “Prepare to deploy EMP Drones on my mark,”

 _EMP Drones ready_ , the intercom reported.

“Mark,” Zod spoke quietly.

_EMP Drones away.  they will be in targeting range in three minutes..._

That was the beauty of the Phantom Drive, Hardy realized.

 _From here to the other end of the Galaxy in mere minutes_ …

 _Targets acquired_ , the intercom reported.

“Fire EMPs…” Zod ordered.

Hardy kept his attention on the banks of monitors showing the incoming Kryptonian Fleet; the Command Modules, the Destroyers, and all the Fighters. Suddenly all of the Fighters seemed to spin out of control…

 _EMP strike successful_ …

“Release the Ram Drones and the Escorts,” Zod was standing very still, those intense eyes of his scanning the monitors…

The signs of emotional strain were there for Hardy to see, even if no one else did, and the reason was not far to seek. Zod was about to do something… _appalling_ …to the Kryptonian Fleet; something that even had Hardy shivering at the thought.

Emil Hamilton had explained Zod’s strategy to Hardy just the day before.

“The Ram Drones are all equipped with Phantom Drives,” Hamilton had said. “And they’re going to collide with other Phantom Drive equipped ships. It’ll set up a Singularity, a miniature Black Hole…”

Zod was going to send all the invaders into a Black Hole.

 _Well_ …Hardy shrugged.

 _They started it..._ …

Now the Ram drones were in range.

“Target the Command Modules and the Destroyers,” Zod commanded.

Again, Hardy shivered. Almost, he felt sorry for them.

Almost…

It seemed that the EMP had affected the Command Modules and the Destroyers too. Nothing fired as the Drones approached their designated targets…

 _Scanners must've been blinded_ , Hardy thought.

Then the first wave of Drones hit their targets…

Even viewed on monitors in an underground bunker, the scene taking place just outside of the Solar System was terrifying to behold…

For just a moment, all of space seemed to ripple…to fold around the invading fleet.

Then everything just fell apart… All of the ships just… …disappeared, swallowed up by nothingness.

 _The Phantom Zone_ …

And, when all was done, all that remained was a single Destroyer, listing to one side, clearly severely damaged…

“Send a Comm Drone out,” Zod was maintaining his emotionless façade.

 _Comm Drone away_ , the intercom reported

A minute passed…

 _Comm open, sir_ …

Zod straightened.

“This is General Zod, commanding the United Forces of Terra. Who am I speaking to?”

“Sub Commander Eri Gan,” The voice sounded badly shaken.

“Sub Commander Gan,” Zod repeated the name. “Go home, Sub Commander, and tell Krypton to leave us alone. We don’t want war. But if you come back, we  _will_ defend ourselves. Tell Krypton that.”

There was no response…

But the Destroyer turned away, Phantom Drive engaging.

“They’re leaving!” someone shouted

The room erupted into cheers…

* * *

Zod heard the cheers, knew he should be glad.

It was victory…complete and total victory.

 _I saved them.  I saved them all_ …

But all he felt was grief…

He remembered Eri Gan from before.

_A brash young ensign when I was Krypton's premiere General.  I killed all of his friends today, and all of his commanding officers too.  How many of those were friends of mine?  How many of those did I train?_

His hands trembled as he slipped the headset off. He backed away, looking for a quiet place, away from the cheering and celebration.

Just outside the room, the hall was an oasis of quiet. He could mourn here, grieve over the Kryptonians he had killed today…

Unmindful of dignity, Zod slid to the floor, back against the wall, tears blurring his vision.

“Sir?” Faora Ul stood over him, concern in her eyes.

Then she settled herself down, sitting right next to him, an arm going around him, and Zod stiffened at that.

For all of three seconds…

Grief was choking him, blinding him, and maybe it was all right to surrender to it, to let it take him.

He felt Faora’s arms go around him as he lay his head on her shoulder…

* * *

_Epilogue_

_Two years later_ …

It’s summer again, and there have been two weddings in the intervening time. Kal has married his Lois Lane, and both Martha and Lara have been told to expect a grandchild sometime in winter.

Right now, though, it’s July, and a truly grand July day it is. It’s a perfect picnic weather day, so the whole gang is back at Martha Kent’s place for one of her famous picnic lunches.

Zod is sitting on the porch, a glass of Martha’s homemade lemonade at his side. He’s looking at the gold wedding band on his finger.

He had never been the kind of man to do things on the spur of the moment...

Until the _Battle of Earth_ , as people were calling it now.

But, after the battle, he had proposed to Faora Ul, and it was hard to tell if Faora was more shocked than Zod. They had gotten married in the UN Chapel, with only Hardy, Hamilton, and General Swanwick in attendance; and now Zod knows it is the  _rightest_ thing he has ever done…

Now, he’s sitting on the porch, watching Jai El, Jor El’s daughter, as she races around; and she’s so fast only Kal can really keep up with her.

Right now, he’s keeping her occupied, tossing her over a shoulder, and romping around to her delighted shrieks of laughter.

Martha Kent is setting the big oaken picnic table, Lois helping, and Zod hears Faora stepping up behind him.

“Martha Kent won’t let me help,” she complains.

The reason is clear to see as she waddles over to sit at Zod’s side. Faora is, as the Terran saying goes, _out to here_ , with Zod’s child.

“If I had known it was going to be this uncomfortable,” she grouses. “I would have chickened out.”

“Chickened out?”

“A Terran saying,” Faora explains. “They sure have a lot of them…”

“Yes,” Zod agrees. And he, too, worries over Faora. Never mind that Humans have been making babies the natural way for hundreds of thousands of years.

Briefly, he wishes he still had access to a Genesis Chamber.

 _It would certainly be easier on Faora_ …

But Jor El had been right all along.

Krypton wasn’t dead yet. But even Zod could see Krypton was dying now.

_They've been destroying themselves for millennia; and the one man who could have saved them, Jor El, was the one man they drove away and killed..._

In the end, Krypton would reap what it had sowed, and there was nothing Zod could do to stop it.

But, he was here now, on Earth. Earth was his home now, and all the people he loved were all here too.

 _We'll all Terrans now, and the Terrans, the people of Earth, are our people too_ …


End file.
